"You are not able to leave here
yet. At least, you cannot ride."
The Indian girl was perfectly passive under Stella's guidance, and did
not think of having a will of her own.
"I wish one of the boys had come with me," Stella said to herself.
"Something always happens when I go away alone. I must get word to them
somehow."
"I am going to fire my revolver to bring help," said she to Singing
Bird. "You will not be frightened."
The other girl shook her head.
Stella fired her revolver three times, and waited for an answer, but
none came.
After waiting a while longer, she fired three more shots.
"No shoot again. Need bullets for wolves. Come around soon," said
Singing Bird.
The day was going fast, and soon it would be dark. She could not leave
the girl to go for help, for with the dark the wolves would come.
Singing Bird had fallen into a feverish doze, and Stella arose and
gathered up some dry wood from about the spring, and carried it to where
the girl was lying.
Stella had some matches in her outfit, and when it got dark she intended
lighting the fire, hoping that the boys would see it when they came to
look for her when she did not return at dark.
Again she brought water from the spring, and sat down beside her
new-found friend to bathe her head and reduce her fever.
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